Of Beggar and King...

On such a night as this I should be glad

And so I am; but love can be so cruel

As solitude unravels from a spool

Where memories both thrill and make me sad…

The want of what is not could drive me mad

On such a night as this thought is a thief

Stealing from garden’s of repose, its bloom

I hold it to my cheek; thought can’t exhume

What Time has buried in its swollen sheaf

We gather but to yield love’s joy and grief

On such a night I would not change a thing

For dearer than love’s smile must be its tear

And Time is but the tenure of a year

Where no one is immune to its keen sting

Of being both a beggar and a king

 Janet Martin

Because of Love...

Because of Love

We cannot heedless face the hour

Not bear its tireless guilt

But by its grace

We claim the power

Through Love on Calvary spilt

Because of Love

We dare not brash or reckless be

Nor disregard its worth  

For by its grace

We are set free

In Love’s divine re-birth

Because of Love

We bear the cross of life with hope

And not with loss

For by His grace

He helps us cope

His Love conquered the cross

© Janet Martin

Drunkard's Love...

Beyond me, in the dark somewhere

He stumbles; the weight of despair

Seeks refuge from a bottle in his hand

Beyond him, in the dark somewhere

His children wish that he was there

A drunkard’s love is hard to understand

Beyond me, in the dark somewhere

He wishes too that he was there

And curses demons lurking in the night

The spirit is a warrior sleek

But oh, the wretched flesh is weak

And sometimes he is just too tired to fight

© Janet Martin

Rainy Night Santa Claus Parade

The rain lies heavy on the foggy street

And there are puddles where there should be snow

The chill drips, melancholy from the eaves

Unlike December days of long ago

When winter bullied through November’s gate

Ignoring numbers of its starting date

The late day weeps in cold and morbid flight

Hissing under the traffic rushing by

The fire in the hearth seems dull tonight

The smoke cowers beneath the sodden sky

Not like December’s of past centuries

Where footsteps crunched toward their destinies

The dusk is laden with December’s tears

It should be snow instead of dreary splashes

And Santa after many snowflake years

Sports an umbrella and goulashes

We huddle ‘neath store-awnings to stay dry

The slicker-clad parade goes waddling by

© Janet Martin

The Writer's Group will watch the parade first, in spite of the rain...

Bethlehem's Star (A Repost)

Bethlehem’s star has not dimmed its glow

It beams clearly now as it did long ago

Into the darkness of earth’s desperate night

Bethlehem’s star still offers His light

Still now we gather in awe of His might

To wonder and worship and seek this true Light

Over each cradle and grave see it shine

Mercy and goodness and love so divine

‘Peace on the earth and goodwill to all men’

A message of hope as true now as then

Come one and all, oh, come as you are

Follow the Light of Bethlehem’s star

Janet~

“Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.” Matt. 2:1

Poet's Soliloquy (my Writer's Group Homework Assignment)

Use these words in a story, poem or song.

Soliloquy, Hypoteneuse, Frostbite, Zugzwang,
Solecism, Jeopardy, Astronomer, Jigamirandee,
Ottoman, Gordon Lightfoot, Spot remover, Tattle tale,
Acalculia, Pseudonym, Squeegee, Chimera

I'm in a Writer's Group that meets on the first Friday of every month. (if you live near Drayton and you are a writer or wanna-be, hop on by. We have so much fun:) I missed the last meeting so you can imagine my surprise at the words in our homework assignment…(they were chosen out of a game they played)

I did mine last night, lying on the floor in front of a crackling fire just before I fell asleep. It is written accordingly…

Poet’s Soliloquy:

A pseudonym would simply cause my other self to blush,

I’ll bear this poet’s shame using my own name

Because…

Since my severe frostbite last December

Acalculia has made it hard for me to remember

So many basic facts; recovery’s hypotenuse, I guess

But it has put in jeopardy my career as poetess

So please, forgive my frequent solecism

I’m not in the mood for professional criticism

Besides, each time I pick up a pen; impossible zugzwang

I can’t seem to come up with a ‘thang’

That aint been writ; I want to quit. And what’s more

I just spilled coffee on my white skirt and the floor

I’m using spot-remover but a tattletale stain

Compels me to squeegee it again and again

While Gordon Lightfoot sings, In the Early morning Rain…

Let’s face it, I’m scrubbing in vain.

Muse is a chimera, my writing is crap

I pull up the ottoman; it’s time for a nap

My son’s invention is a real dandy

It’s a help-u-to-sleep jigamirandee

So I pour myself one, with a double shot of brandy

O-o-o-! The astronomers will be happy tonight

Cause I see stars falling and I’m not even outside! 

Janet :)

Of Causes and Effects...

Cause and effect

Its sure results

Don’t happen overnight

But action yields

From patient fields

The fruit of wrong or right

My dearest child,

If you are wise

Then bear this truth in mind

Cause and effect

Have no respect

In harvest cruel or kind

The seeds we plant

May seem so small

But tiny seeds will grow

And what was hid

Will someday be

The fruit we have to show

Cause and effect

We cannot sway

The course of nature’s laws

Employ with care

For deeds effect

Is chosen by the cause

© Janet Martin

 My brothers, can a fig tree bear olives,
or a grapevine bear figs?
Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water.

James 3:12

A 'Mary Christmas'

 

It happens every year

In spite of my intent

That to-do list with iron fist

Insists that I consent

And if I pay no heed

Then I fear that I might

Forget the Worth that came to earth

On that first Christmas night

Why do I rush about

Letting panic increase?

Jesus was born on Christmas morn

To give us hope and peace

And should I never pause

To sit at Jesus knee

Then I have missed His greatest gift

In care’s futility

Will we kneel at His feet

Or fret in flurried fuss?

Will it be a Mary or Martha Christmas?

The choice is up to us

© Janet Martin

At the Home of Martha and Mary: Luke 10:38-42

 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him.  She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said.  But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things,  but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”